TITLE: Tasting the End

TITLE: Tasting the End

AUTHOR: Blaire Ryan

EMAIL:  Redbat1@earthlink.net

RATING:  PG-13

SUMMARY:  The last day.

SPOILERS:  All episodes game, but doubtful that they'll be any references.

DISTRIBUTION:  Eternal Bitca, UCSL, YGTS, Existence Crawls, and any others that apply.

DISCLAIMER:  Joss Whedon owns it all, along with a bunch of other rich people.

FEEDBACK: Desired beyond desire.

NOTES:  Response to Gloveslap 24 at You Got the Stones?  Okay, my muse is busted beyond all recognition.  As you'll see, this sucks, and I just had to write whatever I could get out.  Note, the challenge required me to do this, I didnae wanna.

DEDICATION: To the wackiness that is YGTS?

          I've tasted it many times.  Far too many, if you ask me.  It's the end of existence, or life, or whatever hell happens when you die.  Every vision, every shocking migraine with pictures, came with death of some sort.  Most times, that death was averted.  Sometimes though, it wasn't. 

          It was my fault that I ended up the way I am.  If I'd killed Harmony when I had the chance, any of the times I had the chance, really, I would be able to see my reflection in the mirror at this moment.  But then, if I'd done that I would have been dead over twelve hundred years ago.  I wouldn't know what Alpha Centauri Prime looks like in the sunlight (it turns out only the sun of Earth kills vampires.  Apparently, when vampires are created… never mind, I'm not going to waste precious time explaining).  And, probably most importantly, I would have missed out on a whole lot of really good sex.  I mean, who would have thought Harmony knew how to use her tongue for anything other than speaking the praises of clothing designers?

          Now, I would have to say unlife would have been fantastic if it hadn't been for that damn slayer.  How the hell she even got ahold of wood for a stake in the middle of deep space I'll never know, but that's not really important anymore.  She had the stake, and she used it on my Harmony. 

          My reaction put me in the situation I'm now finding myself in.  I hadn't even thought, just reached out and snapped the neck of the stupid bitch.  Let me tell you, that is SO not a good idea on a space station.  An even worse idea?  Running from the security personnel that arrive on the scene.  What was the worse they could've done, put me in a cell for fifty years?  You'd think after twelve centuries, I'd have learned not to fight back in situations like that. 

          But I did react badly, and I blame the visions.  Even though I hadn't received a single vision for a century (long story, don't ask why the PTB would send a soulless demon a vision), the moment I saw the fancy-dancy proton weapon I thought of when I'd still been human, the moment I felt it as seventeen bullets entered the back of some innocent kid in New York.  Well, accompanied by my demon (and no, I don't have the icky animal look the master had.  Harmony's blood was never powerful enough to give me that kind of mysticism) I panicked.  I ran, and they fired after me.  I can see the bolts of energy hitting everywhere around me, and if I can onlly make it to an airlock-

The End

I told you.  Pure suckage.